


hell on earth

by mechanicalanakal (orphan_account), sewlett



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Blood, Choking, Grinding, Knifeplay, Lots, M/M, god where. do i start, hewlett is just suffering, not really nsfw except the EXCESSIVE MUTILATION
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 16:12:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12193272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/mechanicalanakal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewlett/pseuds/sewlett
Summary: this is an rp that i fixed up! a few people requested it, so!!(rewritten by @sewlett)





	hell on earth

**Author's Note:**

> hewlett misses his horse, simcoe follows him like a creep: the series
> 
> au where carrying a knife is a crime I GUESS

The church was as bare as it had been left. Nothing more than an empty weapon rack, pews, and his old working desk. Hewlett sighed, hesitant to admit it to himself, but still mourning his horse, perished at the hand if rebels. He approached the desk, running fingers across the surface: thick with dust.  _ This was foolish, _ he knew, almost turning to leave, only to find himself interrupted by the distant sound of footsteps.

Resisting the urge to panic, he gripped the knife at his side. He left his hand still, not taking it out just yet, but prepared himself to do so at any given moment. He felt foolish, for being so frightened, only being a simple noise,  _ but then again _ , he decided,  _ he didn't know who would come up here. _

Before Hewlett had much of a chance to react, Simcoe had already shut the door softly behind him.

Simcoe was friendly enough, offering a “Major!” and wearing a smile, though Hewlett knew better than to indulge such a gesture.

"What are we doing out at such an hour? And why a place such as this?" He took a step from the door, slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. "We haven’t used this building in weeks, you know this."

He let go of the knife’s handle, and straightened his coat: a weak attempt to conceal the blade. The Captain's voice grated against Hewlett's ears and his expression wasn't much better. He took a small step back, mentally readjusting himself. 

"I highly doubt my intentions are any of your concern, Captain," he said evenly, now keeping his arms behind his own back. Simcoe blinked and his head tilted, as if he was confused by the Major’s distrust.

"Well of course it's my concern," he replied, looking a little offended.  _ Another step forwards. _ "An attempt on your life was made here, Major, and we wouldn't want any further harm to come to you."

"I can assure you," he started, taking another step back, "I'm quite safe on my own." Hewlett could feel his composure slipping away, despite his efforts. He only hoped to evade a messy situation, but once Simcoe was involved, one could only wonder if it would be life or death.

"You seem uneasy, Major." Simcoe's voice was steady despite his excitement. "If you think you are so safe, then why might you be shaking?" His tone was condescending, and his eyes were wide with interest. "And if you are so safe, Major," he paused, pondering as if he didn't already know what he was to say, "then why bring a knife?"

Hewlett’s heart dropped.  _ How could he have known?  _ A part of him was hardly surprised. 

He swallowed, freezing up -  _ What would Simcoe do, now that he knew? _ All but beginning to accept his impending death, Hewlett closed his eyes and took a slow breath. He was determined to be civil and  to the point , unlike Simcoe’s aggravating evasions. 

"What do you want, Captain?" He managed to keep a steady tone, despite the fear that felt heavy inside him. A gloved hand was extended towards him, palm facing the sky. Simcoe’s voice was indifferent, but his soft smile still there. 

"The knife, please.”

Hewlett froze, panic and shock consuming him entirely. All he could do was stand there, a stunned expression plastered across his face. He could not speak, as Simcoe took a final, crucial steps forwards. By now, Hewlett was a mere foot from the desk behind him, and he didn’t dare step back any further - if only to avoid trapping himself completely. Simcoe sighed, and though his voice was pitiful, it was also stern.

“Do not make me take if from you, Major.”

Hewlett begged himself not to break as he shook before the man. Never had he experienced something so utterly  _ unnerving _ . Feeling as if he were unable to move, with great effort he found his voice. When he spoke, however, it came out more as a whimper. 

_ "P-Please don't hurt me." _

Simcoe closed his eyes and hummed thoughtfully, though he did not reply. His gaze dropped as he scanned Hewlett's shaken frame, eyes landing on the belt in which he likely kept the knife.

"I assume I will be taking it then, yes?" 

Hewlett stood stock still as Simcoe moved in far to close, brushing a hand over his stomach, and opening the jacket carefully. He could feel Hewlett’s shivering worsen as he retrieved the blade, and his smile only widened once the weapon was in his hold. Hewlett let out a huff, letting his head droop - only able to whine.  _ He didn't want to be hurt- not now- not by  _ _him_. 

Simcoe only kept his eyes on the blade. 

"Excited, Major?" He punctuated question with a stare Hewlett could not describe. Toying with the tip of the dagger against his own fingers, he smiled. “I am too.”

The Major picked his head up, unnerved further by the other's stare.  _ What the  _ hell  _ did he mean?  _ In his state of stress,  h e let himself rest slightly against the desk behind him, using it as support, despite the cornered feeling. He despised being so close to the other, and frankly would’ve done anything to get further away.

“You disgust me," he muttered, offering nothing more than a glare. Simcoe’s eyes widened, for a moment, only to glance downwards. He paused, for a moment, knife still between them.

“I see no need for slander,” he decided, somehow finding himself to be the victim. He looked back through lidded eyes, catching sight of Hewlett's hands on the desk. His ill manner seemed to make more sense, _ the man was falling apart! _ Simcoe let his grip on the knife loosen, and raised it slowly between them. He waved it back and forth lazily, as if he wasn't entirely sure how to use it (though they both knew, very well, that he did). 

Hewlett only hated how such a man could taunt him so easily, overpower him so easily, and was unbelievably frustrated that he couldn't do anything to stop this. In theory, he could try,  _ but was he really going to risk his life in such a way?  _ With a shaky sigh, Hewlett accepted impending fate. Still, Simcoe only smiled, eyes lidded in deep focus. 

_ He had Hewlett, _ he paused, taking a deep breath,  _ right where he wanted him.  _ Finally, coming to some apparent conclusion, he glanced up at the man before him. The knife was raised slowly until the tip was level with Hewlett's collarbone. Pressing it against the fabric of his shirt, he dragged the flat end down his chest. Hewlett shuddered, letting another whimper escape as he squeezed his eyes shut and begged himself to keep it together. The man before him was somehow so terrifying, it  _ angered  _ him. His frustration was only intensified when Simcoe dared to open his mouth.

"Are you frightened?" 

_As if the answer was not obvious._ If anything, the Captain was probably fueled by the other's fear - it could do nothing but encourage him, yet still, he paused.  Hewlett stuttered, no matter how much he wish he didn't. 

"Get it o-over with, won't you?" 

Simcoe chuckled, saddened by the Major's determination to keep things so  _serious_. Pushing the weapon upwards, now, __ t he end of the knife slid through a gap under a button, grazing Hewlett's skin with the tip of the blade.

"I'll stop if you would like," he brought his second hand to Hewlett's hip, thumb inwards. _-_ _For stability, he supposed._ His touch sent a shiver down Hewlett’s spine.

_ What was this monster thinking?  _ Hewlett knew he had to escape - knew he was in danger, yet he found himself unable to form protest.

“Just say the word,” Simcoe encouraged, voice still high and aloof. His grip on the man's hip tightened, pulling the knife up to the button's seam: testing it. He paused for only a moment, watching in content as the Major let out a huffed sigh, turning his gaze away from the other.

"Mmm..." the Captain hummed, finally ripping the blade up through the first few buttons.  “It's a shame, these are expensive.” He paid little attention to Hewlett’s displeasure as he climbed up the row of fastenings.  

“Though I’m sure you’ll cope.” 

Hewlett was disgusted by the others excitement, at how much he was enjoying his suffering - and upon reaching the end of the line the force in which he used to cut off the buttons made his hand jerk upwards, so slightly. He stopped right there, blade inches from Hewlett’s neck. Moving closer, he inhaled deeply. 

“...I could kill you, you know?” He scraped the knife’s edge up and down the Major’s throat. Hewlett stifled another whimper when faced with the other's words and tone. The knife dragged over skin, and he couldn't stop himself from letting out another sigh. Skin exposed to the cold air, he shuddered, voice weak. 

"I'm... w-well aware," he replied, shakily, "but then - why won't you?" He knew he'd regret asking, but truth be told, he saw no other option. He was frustrated, tired, and only craved an escape. Simcoe's jaw was slack and his eyes tired. 

Once again he dragged the flat end of the blade down the man's neck, watching his own actions with curiosity. Reaching the bare skin under the collarbone, however, he turned the weapon and let the sharp end sink into Hewlett's chest. The man tried to stifle another noise when he felt the blade break his skin, but found himself unable to hold back a loud whine. It was slow but shallow, and Simcoe's breath picked up. He calmed himself only for a moment, only to mutter a reply. 

" _ Corpses _ don't make the pretty sounds as you do."

He opened his eyes again, glaring up at the Captain, disgusted, dizzy, and -  _ what? _ Hewlett was forced out of his daze for a moment, stricken by clarity. 

"E-Excuse me?" His voice was shaky and light. A smile spread onto the pursuer’s face at the sound of Hewlett’s dismay. 

“It’s alright, Major. You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t hurt.”

His expression changed quickly, and the small cut on Hewlett’s chest seemed childish in comparison as Simcoe dragged the blade downwards over his collarbone, stopping a few inches below. His grip on the man’s hip tightened once more, silently reminding him to keep still. This was deeper, and Simcoe made no effort to hold back a heavy sigh.

Leaning over, he used a free thumb to pull one side of the cut open, catching a glimpse of tissue before it filled with blood. The red substance pooled quickly and eventually dripped, spilling over the Major’s chest. All-the-while Simcoe watched contently.

Hewlett let out a different noise now, a  _ moan _ . Hand warm on his chest, the Major hardly noticed as the wound began to sting. As seconds passed, Hewlett’s composure faded - nearly losing his footing, his grip on the desk. Resisting the urge to all but collapse, he recognized that he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. He knew, surely, that he had to escape - yet another, _deeper_ part of him wanted more.

Simcoe pulled back a bit, curiosity spreading across his face. He grit his teeth, lowering his knife-hand to mirror the other. He wasn’t sure where this was going, he -  _ that sound... _ \- this was not what he expected. His breathing was heavy and he could still feel Hewlett’s occasional flinch under his grip.  _ He did like this scenario, _ he decided,  _ he liked it very much. _

As Simcoe pulled away, Hewlett caught his breath. He shook himself out of his daze long enough to find energy and look up at the other again. He spoke, tone low and tired, but persistent nonetheless.

"Why did you stop?" He asked, a tone of disappointment hidden away beneath. This was all kinds of wrong, and he hardly meant to say that - but Simcoe’s eyes widened, and he looked the man up and down, and something snapped. He pushed back into Hewlett, more shoving than lifting him onto the desk. The Major was more shocked, than anything, being shoved onto the desk in such manner, supporting himself on shaky arms as Simcoe pressed a strong hand to his sternum. He begged himself to stay upright as the knife's edge was pushed through the small smear of blood, the Captain moving in closer between his legs. 

"You want me to cut you, Major? Is that it?"

Only Simcoe could be so vulgar. 

_ “Please.” _

Jaw tightly shut, a sharp inhale stiffened Simcoe’s body.  _ God. _ He lazily tossed the dagger into his left hand, and let his right explore Hewlett's chest. Specifically the - he wet his lips -  _ wounds.  _ Simcoe now found himself being audible, sighing deeply as the Major's blood covered his fingertips. The constant deep breaths through his nose were an obvious enough sign that he was enjoying himself; between the scent, the feeling, the deep red of the Major's insides...  _ Lord, this was almost perfect. _ Hewlett, however, was horrified to find that he was enjoying himself, even despite the amount of pain. Of course, in any other case, a situation like this would be  _ hell _ , but this was Simcoe, and he only found himself, again, at a loss for words. As the Captain continued to toy with his wounds, he struggled to be quiet, but still, for every whine, there was a whimper, and for every whimper, was a whine. 

The smell of blood, sweat, and the Captain's breath filled his senses and shook him further.  _ He shouldn’t be enjoying this. _

Hewlett was still, however, waiting for his request to be recognized. Simcoe took a bloodied hand from the man's drying chest and eyed the knife in his other. He pondered for a moment, inspecting the blade, when he finally came to a conclusion. Tears had begun to form at the corners of his eyes by time Simcoe stopped, and the Captain smiled, pleased with his work.

"I will have to decline, Major." Simcoe grasped the blade himself before Hewlett had a chance to react. He held the blunt end towards the other, and flashed him a calm, worrying smile. "Your turn."

The knife's handle was thrust at him, and he choked up. 

" _ What? _ " His tone was lined with confusion as he slowly came back to his senses, perking up steadily. A long, drawn out inhale and exhale escaped the Captain's lips as he blinked slowly, heavy eyelids obstructing his gaze. With purpose and intent, he leaned in closure to the Major, the handle of the knife  pressing into Hewlett's stomach. Simcoe's mouth was so close to his ear that he knew the man could all but feel his words.

His breath shook; he was enjoying this.

"Cut yourself."

Another shiver ran down the Major's spine upon feeling the other's hot breath against his skin. But as he processed what Simcoe said, a new wave of panic and fear washed over him.  _ He couldn't be serious,  _ the Major thought, surely,  _ he couldn't _ , but beneath his fear, Hewlett knew it was so. He let out a shaky breath, taking the handle with great hesitation, allowing Simcoe to pull away, leaving a long, shallow cut along his hand.

Hewlett studied the knife for a moment, overwhelmed by the lack of specifics. He only shook, weapon in grasp, terrified of his own impending actions. 

_ "Wh... Where?" _

Simcoe sighed, pitying the man's spinelessness,  _ but also _ \- he closed his eyes -  _ the way his words shook... _

"Must I do everything for you, Major?" he stated more than anything, proceeding to grasp the man's collar and pull it off of his shoulders. When the fabric was taught, he did not hesitate to tear it. Hewlett knew better than to complain.

"There we are!" he finished, tone  _ not _ matching the scenario as he slid his still red-covered hands over clean, undamaged skin. He leaned closer again, though he was really pushing it now, their chests pressing together; Hewlett swore he could feel teeth on his ear when Simcoe whispered the low demand once again. 

"Now cut yourself."

He shook not only in terror, but in response to the temperature of the room. A part of him wanted to stay close to Simcoe like this, but when the Captain pulling away, an expectant expression covered his face and the Major knew that it was not the time to pull such a stunt. He held back another whimper before taking in another short, hesitant breath. Wasting time couldn’t do anything for him now, so he re-positioned himself, sitting normally on the desk. Pulling his left arm into view, his shaking only got worse as he remembered what he was about to do. He turned his arm, palm facing down as he pressed the knife’s edge against himself. Carefully, hesitantly, he dragged the blade over skin. Small, shallow cuts formed in rows, and while he felt that if he did anything more, he’d surely fall apart - he knew that this wouldn't satisfy the Captain. 

Simcoe’s mouth fell open and his breath quickened at a steady pace. He hummed a high sigh as he watched the man writhe beneath him. Simcoe did not have a plan - he had not foreseen any of this, but if anything he found he was always good at improvising, and he was  _ very _ pleased with the turn of events. Hewlett shook as he worked the skin on his arm, and Simcoe dropped his hands to the other's knees. He kept his head bowed as he let his hands shift, slide up the Major's thighs, forcing himself in closer. A deep inhale was followed by a threateningly strong grip. Hewlett held back a sob as he cut deeper, not entirely intentionally either, finding himself more than a little startled by Simcoe’s sudden hold on his thighs. He tried to calm down, but soon tears already slid down his cheeks. His breath shook, and with each new cut, he’d flinched, only to whine softly in defeat.

Thumbs pressed into hipbones, and Simcoe sighed. 

"More please." His tone was blunt, and it was not a request. Overwhelmed by pain and nothing more, Hewlett shuddered softly at the sudden feeling of Simcoe's touch sliding up his thigh. 

Finally, he let spill a small " _ Y-Yes, sir _ ", taking a few long moments to process his own words.

Eyes falling shut, a strangled noise escaped the Captain as his grip loosened for only a moment. He all but fell against Hewlett, mouth open and teeth bared against the side of his face. He was panting, and his breath was hot  as the knife shook in the his grasp. Simcoe's hands dipped further behind his victim, and with a low groan, he pulled Hewlett close. Their hips were flush together and their chests heaved in unison. Hewlett wanted to hate himself for letting such a thing slip, but closer than ever to the Captain, he only moaned, clinging to him.

"You enjoy this?" Simcoe asked, though his composure was beginning to dwindle. He moved his grip back to Hewlett's thighs. With the man no longer cutting himself - seemingly too shaken to move - a hand fell under the Major's leg to support more of his weight and Simcoe used his other to grab the man's wrist. 

"My turn again." His eyes were wide as he took the Major's weapon. He could have taken it from anyone, but Hewlett did not protest at all. The blade more or less fell into Simcoe's hand, and he sighed deeply with satisfaction. 

"P-Please," Hewlett breathed, actually making the Captain pause. " _ Hurt me... _ "

Simcoe stopped, pulling away momentarily, to see his face.

" _ Please _ ," he almost sobbed, putting his hands back onto the desk. He couldn't believe how much he wanted this - shirt half torn off, chest and forearm adorned with lacerations, it shouldn’t’ve been so thrilling, but Hewlett panted, and  _ begged, _ and Simcoe felt his composure dwindle. Between his legs, he pulled more noise from the Major with every dull movement. Despite the unending ache of his arm, Hewlett still found himself at the Captain’s mercy. He deserved this,  _ wanted  _ this, to hurt, to suffer -  _ when had he broken? _

Simcoe smiled faintly, sporting the knife between two fingers. With his grip empty, he paused, considering Hewlett’s request. His other hand rhythmically clenched the man’s thigh in time with his more-or-less unintentional hip movements, and Simcoe looked at the weapon thoughtfully. 

“Perhaps...” he thought aloud, and for only a moment, Hewlett believed he was safe. He let out soft huffs, silently hating himself for enjoying such a thing. He was terrified, surely, but that did little to stop him from loving every second of it all. Hardly able to read his own emotions, he tried not to stress, because now he was safe.

The Captain’s free hand was suddenly at his throat, and Hewlett didn’t even have time to suck in a breath. The knife now dangerously close to his face, Hewlett feared for the worst as Simcoe's lips parted with interest and he began to  _ squeeze. _

“Don’t fret, Major. I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said with endearment, but the sweeter his tone the more it stung. A choked noise escaped the man and utter terror was plastered across his face. Simcoe smiled lazily.  _ To see Hewlett so afraid _ \- he groaned as his grip tightened. Pressing their hips together again, he listened in amusement to Hewlett's strangled response. Smile growing wider as his Major choked under his grip, he found a great force and pushed the man over his right side, down against the desk.  _ It was so easy! _ Simcoe could all but laugh at his pathetic expression, face squished against the desktop while the knife pushed into his chin. The Major meanwhile felt absolutely lost, confused by the sudden violence -  _ asking himself whether it was wrong to enjoy such a thing _ . He was shocked by how quickly Simcoe could overpower him, _ it was amazing _ \- Terrifying - _ exciting? _ \- but amazing. Wood pressing into his cheek, Hewlett let out another groan, struggling for a moment, only to realize that his efforts had no effect. With that, all he could do was lay there, face pressed against the cold desk, and listen to the monster enjoy himself.

The sound of heavy breath was unnervingly loud. Simcoe was essentially purring as he took his right hand from the man's hip and let it slowly travel to his stomach,  _ beautiful _ . Hewlett's entire body shivered as the Captain ran his hand up his skin. The change in interest had resulted in his hand loosening around the Major's neck, and Simcoe paid little attention as the shaken man did his best to get some air back in his lungs. He gasped roughly, sucking in air, but whatever he pulled in was almost immediately forced out in a moan. The sound was soft and broken, and he couldn’t stop, the Captain’s gentle touch consuming him, until he only laid there, catching breath while his voice broke with every caress. To say that he was overstimulated would be understatement. He hated that he enjoyed this, he despised the noises that came from Simcoe, another weak huff as a smile creeped onto his face - but somehow he gave in, eager -  _ desperate  _ to hear such pleasure-filled sounds escape the Captain.

Drinking in the sounds as his inferior sobbed, Simcoe let his fingernails graze the skin on his chest. Watching his own hands in interest, he mapped out the man's stomach muscles, the two cuts from before. Hewlett propped himself up on his good arm, no longer restrained, and Simcoe didn’t oppose. When the air between them was still, for a moment, Simcoe closed his eyes in a thoughtful manner, letting out a hum.

"I have an idea!" he announced, all too friendly, moving before the Major had any time to object. Simcoe was swift in his actions, stepping up onto the desk and dropping to his knees so that the sorry man lay shaken beneath him. Hewlett could only pray to God as he watched Simcoe's sadistic expression loom over his own, stricken with fear. And then those hands, those blood covered hands found his throat once again, and Simcoe watched Hewlett with an apathetic expression that would give him nightmares for the rest of his life. Simcoe's grip steadied, and stifling a whine, he squeezed.

_ It wasn’t real,  _ he thought, absolutely panicked.  _ Not again, please. _ Hewlett clawed at the other's hands, begging Simcoe to let go, yet knowing all too well that his actions would do him little good. Tears ran down his cheeks as his choked sobs filled the other's senses. He didn't want this -  _ he didn't want to go out like this.  _ Not by _ him, _ not here, and definitely not in such a panicked, pathetic state. Though he wouldn’t lie to himself, and was all too aware that his weak struggles would only stall the man, until he was effortlessly overpowered again. The sight of Hewlett writhing beneath him was really only providing excitement for the man arched above. 

He felt himself slowly slipping, yet he could do nothing but look up in terror. His eyes would occasionally shut, only for him to tear them open, determined to cling to what consciousness he had left - but that mindset hardly lasted, as he quickly fell into a nothingness. Simcoe's breath quickened again, short pants, and his brows tilted in satisfaction as he watched the man's eyes fall shut.

Breath slowing, chest heaving, Simcoe felt the man go limp in his grasp. He sighed aloud, falling back to sit on the Major's hips. He could not help but admire his handiwork, the man's left forearm completely dressed with messy cuts, slashed this way and that. Simcoe caressed them thoughtfully, exploring the ridges and dips, as he hummed a low song.

 

Moving to touch the cuts on his chest, he noticed the contrast; one moderately shallow, and one deeper than the rest. The Captain shuddered, scraping clotted blood out and watching it fill up once more. He wished to do more, but as he watched the new trickle of blood fall down the Major's side, he began to miss his voice. Scanning the room, it did not take long for Simcoe to find the things he needed. Taking one more moment to drink in this image, the Major's neck beginning to bruise, Simcoe stood and began to sort his things.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hewlett's ok!!!!!! just sleepin  
> this is a very small fraction of the rp in its entirety, so i will probably update this! stay tuned, they fall in love
> 
> //IT'S A SCHOOL NIGHT SO I CAN'T FINISH PROOFREADING SO BLEASE HMU IF YOU FIND ERRORS


End file.
